Where one writer and observer of the human condition shares what she's reading, writing, and thinking…

More Is More

Lately I’ve struggled with the word constraint of a guest column I write. No matter how concisely I try to present my ideas, I’m routinely asked to cut between twenty and forty words from each submission. Not long ago, I spent a painful weekend pruning over 4,000 words or roughly fifteen pages from a complex essay that took over a month of previous weekends to write. All this excising of carefully crafted thought has left me increasingly puzzled by and frustrated with the stringent word count restrictions imposed by editors, literary and academic conferences, and writing competitions, and I’m wondering for the umpteenth time in my literary career…why is brevity so universally celebrated? And when exactly did less become more?

In a world of tweeting, texting, cinquains, and the widely popular flash fiction and short shorts, the art of epic articulation is no longer appreciated and extolled. As writers, we are called upon constantly to synopsize, abstract, and shorten our work. Most literary journals and conference calls for submissions set essay and story limits of 2,000 words, which not only makes comprehensive analysis or lavish storytelling impossible but also, quite frankly, cramps my style. Heck, my list of works cited typically comprises 1,000 words alone.

The length parameters of most submission opportunities are about a third of the critical essay and creative prose minimum page requirements in graduate English and Creative Writing programs. Weeks and even months of research and writing are required for a 15- to 25-page paper or narrative of “publishable” quality, which needs to be summarily condensed to a scant seven pages in order to meet the submission guidelines for publication or presentation. Any writer who has attempted to abridge fiction prose or an essay or a column to meet an editor’s space limitations knows well the instability of what remains once its structure has been so severely compromised.

I’m doing my best to adapt to the attention deficit world in which we now live and must attempt to create. As I write each blog post, column, essay, and fiction piece, I monitor the number of words at the bottom of my computer screen like a frugal taskmaster, making more efficient choices and trying not to lament all that is left unexpressed too much. But it hasn’t come easily.

In the end, with just a few hours remaining before my recent target conference submission link was closing, I read the culled fragments of my original 6,000-word Bakhtinian analysis of Oscar Wilde’s only novel and decided against submitting it. The part was simply inferior to the whole. Call me verbose; I still believe more is more.

The seven volumes of Marcel Proust’s “À la recherche du temps perdu” (“In Search of Lost Time”) total over 4,200 pages and an estimated 1.2 million words. (Photo by Amakuha.)

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2 Responses

Man do I know exactly what you mean and totally empathize. I’m constantly WAY over word limits, and I spend inordinate amounts of time looking for longer or no word count magazines to submit to (I’ve found a few, if you’re interested). Many of my friends tell me they’d “love to” read my blog but it’s too long and they’re “intimidated” when they open the email or the page and see it’s pages and pages. On which I call BS – they may be lazy, but I can’t imagine these people are in fact intimidated.

Another friend of mine, a wildly successful blogger (hers got her, several years ago, her current job as a staff journalist at HuffPo) and great writer, tells me I have a “context problem” – meaning I give too much. “It’s not BAD, necessarily,” she says, “that’s just your style. Unfortunately, it’s not anyone else’s anymore, so people lose interest in all your backstory before you get them to the actual story.” Which is valid criticism, I guess.

On the plus side, a friend of mine at dinner Saturday night told me that she loves loves loves long books and “can’t stand” that all these great authors are writing shorter and shorter novels to keep up with the times. “I read a book in twelve hours the other day,” she said. “A whole book! You should not be able to do that.”

Thanks, Ian – I’m glad to know it’s not just me. If I wanted to be literarily thrifty, I’d simply have a Twitter account and call it a day. Like your friend, I seek long, complex narratives in which I can get lost for days or weeks. I love to meander into and out of various perspectives, revel in the landscape, and digress into backstory…

I’ve also been given that context advice and been told I provide too much detail in my writing, but I believe it’s a matter of style and taste. My favorite novels are filled with rich details that certainly aren’t necessary to the plot. But I’m not a plot driven reader. I trust the author will get me where I need to go eventually. I read for the experience and joy of the process, and I’m in no hurry. Your style is lingering and evocative and will always require some time and energy and, yes, intellect to absorb fully. That’s what makes it great.

Thanks again for the note. Talk with you soon!

Michelle

P.S. Yes, please forward me the journal referrals. I’m on a mission to find a place for my Bakhtin essay and several others.